


Memories

by TrillianSwan



Series: The Mamaverse [3]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends, Flirting, M/M, Second one, Sexual Tension, Timeline 39, Timeline 39 is my crack fluff Queliot timeline, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, these are the tags for the first one, this is what my brain does when I'm supposed to be writing the next chapter, when I want them young and goofy stupid in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrillianSwan/pseuds/TrillianSwan
Summary: I don't know, sometimes stuff just comes into my head. And this is where I will post them.Queliot plotless one-shots from the Mamaverse, for your reading pleasure. Won't blow your socks off, but it might warm your toes for a hot second. :)
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: The Mamaverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1404517
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Slap and Tickle

_The Mosaic, eight months in._

They were sitting by the campfire. That is, Quentin was sitting, on one foot, on one of the benches, and Eliot was stretched out on the other, legs crossed at the ankles, propped up on a pillow from their bed, one hand behind his head, and smoking.

Quentin had said something sarcastic, but that wasn’t what he remembered about the conversation. It was what happened next.

“You’re not too big to spank,” Eliot said dryly, ashing his hand-rolled cigarette on the ground.

“Promises, promises,” Quentin sing-songed as he poked at the fire.

Eliot turned and looked at him, playful and serious and curious all at once. “Would you like that, Baby Q? A little slap and tickle?”

Quentin suddenly felt hot all over, and gave the fire a forceful poke to hide it. “Not like you do it, probably.”

Eliot raised an eyebrow. “And how do you think I do it?”

“I don’t know… leather, and whips and stuff.”

 _“And stuff,”_ Eliot scoffed, turning back to the stars. “You are too adorable to exist.”

“You make jokes about it all the time!”

“Jokes. Pain is more Margo’s scene. _I_ am a romantic.”

“You are not," Quentin scoffed back, because this was orgies-because-it’s-Tuesday Eliot they were talking about, not Wesley from _The Princess Bride_. 

“Wait-- you said _not like you’d do it--_ how _would_ you do it? Nestle over my lap all sweet?” Eliot teased. “Feel the cool air on your bare skin along with my very large, warm hands? Let me kiss it all better when I’m done?”

That was an entirely new thought Quentin had, in fact, _never_ considered, and his brain entirely short-circuited on the concept for what felt like an eternity, but he snapped out of it when the stick he was holding fell out of his hand. He couldn’t look at Eliot as he stood-- though he could see his shit-eating grin out of the corner of his eye, and how could he not, it was thousand-watt-- but he tried to at least sound perturbed as he frowned. “And on that note, I’m going to bed.”

“Should I give you a head start?” Eliot smirked. “Some alone time to think about that?”

“I think _you_ should take a walk and cool off,” Quentin snarked, but he couldn’t stop a smile from playing at his lips. “I’m going to read, and then go to sleep.”

“Enjoy your book.”

“Enjoy your walk.”


	2. Study Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Studying may happen in Timeline 39, but love can make you crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline 39 is, in my head, _the_ Queliot crack fluff timeline, the no-drama timeline, when they are love-at-first-sight and stupid in love. Julia’s at Brakebills, she helps Alice so no Qualice, or Mike, just smooth sailing for our ship. I haven’t plotted it but I retreat here whenever I need to get some fluff off my chest. This scene is pre-Beast, so that should mean they haven’t been together all that long, though I’m not super clear on how time passes in S1. But this ties into why it’s in the Mamaverse-- in my canon for this series, the culmination of all the different ways they related to each other in the time loops creates their bond, and never more so than in Thirty-nine, when they fall into a pretty serious relationship quite quickly. There might be other Timeline 39 drabbles in here, if I ever shape up the others to post.

Eliot and Quentin were sitting on either ends of a couch in the common room of the Cottage. Quentin’s foot was in his lap, bare, because Eliot had slowly worked off his shoe and sock as he pretended to read, and was now idly running his fingers over the top of his foot. 

Quentin might have been pretending to read, too, because he unfolded his other leg and switched them out, almost as if demanding to be unshod, except that he didn’t look up from his book, and only let the slightest hint of a smile play on his lips.

Eliot closed his book and set it down on the coffee table. He began to slowly unlace Quentin’s second shoe, teasing him with it. “It’s Friday night, already, you can stop all that for the weekend.”

“It’s ten a.m. and I have this very class in an hour,” Quentin said without looking up, but he began to chew on a piece of his hair as his shoe came off, which Eliot took as encouragement.

“And then you’re in there for another _two hours,”_ Eliot whined, “and that will be--”

“Let me guess,” Quentin said, raising an eyebrow but not taking his eyes off the text. “Three hours since we made out.”

“Four and a half, we’ve been sitting here since breakfast. I was _going_ to say _tragic.”_ He slipped off Quentin’s sock.

“Drama queen,” Quentin retorted, and for this Eliot tickled his foot, making him giggle and jump and kick.

“Hey-- watch it,” Eliot laughed.

“I thought...” Quentin frowned with faux-irritation as he dropped his book on the floor and crawled to Eliot on the couch, “you wanted me to...” he climbed into Eliot’s lap, “grow up to be a big, strong Magician like you...” he continued, taking Eliot by the biceps and pressing him down into the cushions as he loomed over him, “and for that, I have to go to class.”

“You’re good enough, stay with me,” Eliot pouted.

“Good _enough?”_ Quentin sat up and flipped his hair out of his face.

“I’m sure you’re fine,” Eliot shrugged with a wave of his hand.

“Fuck you,” Quentin laughed, and slapped playfully at his chest. 

“I mean, you’re _all_ basically peasants, except Margo--”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, O great Magician.” Quentin leaned in and kissed him gently. “But I’m the peasant who gets to love you, and about ten minutes to show it.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t even looked at this chapter all week. _And_ because we promised Margo that any more than ten and we have to get out of the common room.”

“No, I mean, why would you want to? Love me?”

“Eliot,” Quentin admonished him gently, and stroked his sideburn with his knuckles.

“I’m selfish and horrible and all I want to do is distract you and pull you back to me.”

Quentin propped himself on his forearms on Eliot’s chest. “First of all, you don’t _pull_ me to you like some kind of Pied Piper. You’re the soft place I come back to when everything gets weird. Or anytime I can, really.” His face became serious and he frowned and tucked his hair behind his ear. “You’ve kinda taken the place of my bed.”

“Oh, well, I sound _very_ comfy,” Eliot said with a half-hearted eye-roll-- enough to elicit more but not enough to entirely discount that as a compliment.

Quentin screwed up his mouth to the side. “I fucked that up--”

“Oh, no, I love being called _soft,”_ Eliot teased.

“Yes, that might have been a poor choice of words, given--” Quentin rocked his hips gently against him.

“I thought we were ignoring that,” Eliot smirked.

“Like I could miss it. Okay, look. It’s just--” He paused, playing with the knot in Eliot’s tie and avoiding his eyes as he considered. “Having you near me makes me _feel_ better, always, because you like-- care about parts of me that everyone forgets? Except Julia, obviously, she checks in, but you like? Go out of your way to actually _care_ for me, make _me_ take care of me. And that’s like, weirdly empowering? Or something.” He lifted his eyes to Eliot’s, and gave a crooked smile. “I wish I could take you with me in my bag to class. I could use the boost.”

Eliot hummed happily and held him closer, lacing his hands behind Quentin’s back. “I bet I could find a spell for that. Shrink myself down.”

Quentin laughed and kissed his nose. “But then you’d just want to do weird things with that and we’d _still_ never make it to class.”

Eliot giggled and sat them up, waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially. “What kinds of weird things did you have in mind?”

“Your ten minutes are up,” Quentin said with a sly grin. He started to crawl back off his lap and head for his end of the couch. 

Eliot caught him by the belt loop at his lower back and pulled him back into place. “That cannot _possibly_ be, my _darling_ Baby Q, who knows _just_ how to stroke it.” He caught him behind the neck and kissed him. “My enormous ego, that is. But not so much that I’ve lost _all_ track of time.” 

“Look, I will happily validate you anytime you want? But _you_ picked the ten minutes meant for kissing,” Quentin pointed out. “Of which you probably still have five?” He grinned. “Admittedly. Wanna make out for five minutes?”

“Hear me out.” Eliot held up a finger. “Five minutes and I leave you alone, promise. _Fifteen_ minutes, upstairs, I’ll make you see stars. _Thirty minutes_ and you can read while I blow you, real slow and not in the _least_ bit distracting, until you’re done with your reading, and _then_ I’ll make you see stars.” He flattened his hand, palm out. “I absolutely _promise_ you will never forget the material.”

“Goddamn it, Eliot,” Quentin groaned and dropped his forehead down onto Eliot’s collarbone. “If you ever feel like asking me why I _hate_ you? That would be it.”

Eliot petted his hair and grinned, delighted. “So, door number three, then?”

“Let me get my stuff,” Quentin sighed heavily, rolling his eyes like a pouty teenager. Eliot slapped him on the ass as he stood, which made him break out of it and laugh. “I’m hurrying!”

“I only have thirty minutes,” Eliot said, rising and attempting to smooth out his now very wrinkled linen suit.

“Well, talk like that gets you a negotiated time limit,” Quentin said as he hunted around for his socks and shoes. “But not more than an hour, because I _cannot_ miss this class.”

“Again,” Eliot smirked.

“It’s like breakfast makes you horny,” Quentin grumbled playfully as he swung his bag over his shoulder.

Eliot gently spun him around into his arms and kissed the tip of his nose. “It’s like love makes me crazy.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just go bang already, and quit making a whole scene out of it,” Margo groused from the other couch. _“Love makes you crazy,”_ she muttered, flipping the page of her magazine. _“Jesus,_ who _writes_ you?”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much thanks to @allegria23 for their beta help!


End file.
